Red Glare
by CraftyNotepad
Summary: Pim's losing her edge and she knows it.


**_Red Glare_**

by CraftyNotepad

"Six Months Detention and a 5,000-Word Essay on Privacy! Are these all the copies of that video? Now, you, you get back to your class where you belong, Miss Diffy!"

Leaving in a huff, Pim was red faced, not for what she had done, but for being caught. Under her breath, she talked to herself as she often did, "I am really getting soft! Fried Fries! Am I getting too old to pull pranks? No, I can't be; I prank Phil all the time ... of course, it's not like my goody-goody brother is any more of a challenge than Curtis."

"AND REMEMBER: Your Detentions Start MONDAY!"

"Monday's a holiday, Dillweed."

"And a six thousand-word essay on holidays," countered Vice-Principal Hackett with a smirk and gleeful glean in his eyes.

"(grumble, grumble, his fault, grumble, bald-headed, Fred Astaire wanna-be, grumble ... be runnin' this dump if it wasn't for him.)"

"What was that, Miss Diffy?"

"Nothin'. (I am slippin'.)"

"(Psst. Pim. Are you okay, Chief?)"

"Dawkins? What are you doing here?"

"My Pim, did you think I wasn't worried about you?"

"No, I mean, 'what are you doing here?' I told you to be scalping tickets for the next Festapalooza concert."

"But you were -"

"How many tickets did you sell while I was ... detained?"

"I was nervous because you were-"

"How many?"

"Six."

"Six? Huh. Well, that's not too shabby, Danny. Good work."

"Th-thanks, Pim. Say, I've been saving two tickets in case you'd like to -"

"What? I'm definitely slipping. Back to work, Dawkins. You still have a quota to meet by the last bell. Well? Move it!" Hmm ... cute butt - what am I thinking?

...

Lying on her bed, Pim stared at her ceiling. It was the only remaining surface of her room that her mother hadn't redecorated. A blank canvas, you might think that Pim kept it that way, but you'd be mistaken. Upon this barren slate Pim dreamed up some of her most imaginative schemes. She had to. You could hardly expect her to concentrate anywhere else inside her pink frosting prison of a bedroom. Above her, her destiny awaited, needing only her genius to unleash the palette of her mind. Focused. She had to stay focused. Concentrate on her goal, the hole in her life, and let whatever she needed to triumph to come fill up the void, but try as she might, Pim couldn't focus. It was Phil's fault. Stupid drums. Stupider drummer. At least his straw-headed girlfriend won't be around. She may be a BB brain, but even she's smart enough to spare her ears while dorkfus is slamming his skins. Pim needed peace, too. She needed calm. She needed a snack.

Swinging off her crocheted bedspread, Pim Diffy's feet hit the shag carpeting. Sigh. Thanks, Mom. Covering both her ears and making an earnest, if ineffective attempt at shooting laser beams from her eyeballs at her berzerker brother, she then made it downstairs in search of comfort food, if not nutrition.

"Oh, hi Pim," the future Mrs. Diffy greeted her with her usual perkiness.

"What are you doing here? Don't you have a home of your own anymore, Teslow?"

"I'm just trying to be nice. Pim, sometimes you can be so, so - "

"So, I'm 'so-so,' am I? Well, I'll try to make a better impression when I call in on your new hot tip show, Blondie. Here's a tip for you: Let go of that last slice of pie unless you want your career to go splat like one ... that's thrown ... at you ... about the face." What's the matter with me? That threat sounded like it was read off of 3 x 5 cards.

Keely's expressions went from being hurt, to defensive, to confused, and finally ended up being sympathetic. That was one emotion that Pim couldn't stand, unless she was benefiting from it, and, right now, she wasn't. Pim grabbed the remaining pie (no fork) and headed out to the backyard, more to retreat than to find a new place to think. As she left, she could hear a voice back inside the kitchen musing aloud, "Poor Pim."

Miss Diffy found the hammock, her hammock, occupied.

"Go away. You block Curtis sun. Give Curtis pie."

That did it! Last straw time! Pim growled, knocking Curtis out of the woven sling, leaving him confused, with a face full of wet, cut grass clippings. Another growl could be heard being ready to be unleashed from her gullet as Curtis remarked something Cro-Magnony and scampered over two fences to escape to another Pickford Heights Adjacent street.

Satisfied, Pim snuggled in the form-fitting comfort of her hammock, talking to herself aloud, "Mama's still got it." Chomp! A three-mouthful-sized piece of pie disappeared with satisfaction. "Ahh ..." She was queen of her world, once again. Life was good.

"Hello neighbory Neighbor," intruded a hairless voice into her domain. Hackett! Here, too? Having him for a next door neighbor made him worse of an annoyance than Berwick. Maybe if she ignored him, he'd just go away. Yes, far, far away.

"Enjoy your long weekend, Pim, and remember, 'Detention. Two hours after school. Six months.' And don't think I've forgotten about that essay you owe me."

"Yeah, yeah. 'Five hundred words on the Fourth of July.' Don't worry, Mr. Hackett. I promise, you'll get it."

"Good," Hackett approved, and that probably would have been the end of it, if not for Pim's Cheshire grin. That gave him pause to think, or a process remarkably similar for the site-level administrator. "Hey, hey hey! That's five THOUSAND words, Pim, and on all holidays, and I want it Monday."

"Monday's no longer a holiday?" Pim mocked him, half-innocently.

"Yes, well, Tuesday, then. If I were you, I'd be getting busy."

"Oh, yeah? And if I were you, I'd be busy getting dates."

"Why you! I'm going to come over there and -"

"Trespass? You know what I'm legally allowed to do to trespassers, Hackett?"

He didn't, but he didn't want to find out. All he could manage to do was let out his squeak of a growl, and squinted stare, which made Pim laugh uncontrollably. To her, he looked like he was trying to go potty in his own yard, and his marching off in defeat made her stomach ache from laughing even harder. He slammed his kitchen door closed, and Pim grinned, because she had gotten him to knock off a thousand words from her essay. Pim felt disgusted with herself. What was the matter with her, taking pride in such a sliver of a victory? Why, she should be the one handing out assignments to him, not the other way around. Why was everything backward in this century? It was this stupid century's fault. It was infecting her genius like a head cold and she couldn't shake it for nuthin'.

...

Tonight, the Diffys were all together, which surprise three of them to no end. The youngest Diffy never seemed want to come along with the rest of the family, to be seen with them, unless she had be talked, goaded or bribed into doing so. Not tonight, though. Pim even packed them all a picnic basket herself. Everyone was more than a little suspicious, but what could they do? Even Curtis and Keely joined the Diffys tonight out at the park where they had watched Keely crowned as the Yuletide Princess. Keely's mother was there, too, as was nearly all of Pickford, to watch the fireworks display. Oh, there were rockets, pinwheels, fountains ... all the usual. Firecrackers, bomb bursts ... everyone enjoyed the night's extravaganza, including the sky blazing finale. The last of the "ahhs" were issued, then lawn furniture was refolded, blankets shaken out, and, certainly, trash picked up.

"Hope you enjoyed the night's sky show, Diffys. Pim, did you tell you parents that you'll be spending some extra time at school for the next few millenniums - I mean, months?"

"Yeah, Mr. Hackett, I've been really meaning to talk to you about that."

"What is Vice-Principal Hackett talking about, Pim?" Barbara Diffy inquired, not really wanting to know.

"(Checkbook, Dear?)" prompted Lloyd wondering.

"(Not yet. Probably. Yeah.)"

Pim spoke, "Mr. Hackett, can we have a little privacy? I think this concerns just you and me."

"Not this time, She-devil. This time you're going down for good."

"Up."

"What?"

"HEY! EVERYBODY! LOOK UP!"

There's just something about Pim that tends to make people listen to her. Confidence? Hypnosis? Finger on a remote to a Penny Missile? Take you pick. You don't want to miss this sight: a 1982 Bravada hatchback doesn't go that fast every night - straight up - then explode! Oh, the colors! Everyone applauded, it was so magnificent. A real show topper, it made the night.

Neil Hackett was speechless. Oh, his mouth was open, alrighty, just not able to make words come out.

"Yeah, see? About those detentions? Not going to happen."

Phil tugged on his sister's sleeve, "Pim, Mom and Dad say it's time to go home now."

"Yeah, I'm comin'." Pim left her neighbor in the park as she, along with the rest of Pickford, left the strange man staring at the heavens. As she was climbing into the family car, Pim felt something, a twinge, perhaps? At any rate, Pim did ask her Vice-Principal one more question before she disappeared into the night ...

"Say, Hackett ... can I have an extension on that report?"

...

**Disclaimer**: When are you going to give up? You've been giving me the third degree for hours. I'm innocent, see? You can't pin nuthin' on me, see? I didn't know what Pim was planning before the fireworks and I haven't seen her since. "The tape?" Well, sure, that looks like me, but ... Hey! Come on, give me a break! I didn't do nothin'! Chunks! I don't even own Phil of the Future, but it you're interested, maybe I could could make you an interesting deal on a half season of Sunny With A Chance. No, they're still making those. Yeah, I know; "go figure."


End file.
